


Steve Duty

by Apriel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Bed-Wetting, Captain America Sam Wilson, Caretaking, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-18 00:18:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16106771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apriel/pseuds/Apriel
Summary: His role as Captain America has gotten too much for Steve and for the sake of his health he is forced to retire, but his friends continue to protect and serve their beloved champion of justice~





	Steve Duty

Her turn to watch over Steve is, unbeknownst to anyone else of course, one of Natasha's favourite assignments.

 

In the evenings, Steve often retires to bed around ten at the latest. His routines are like clockwork, and there is something so adorable about it. On the inside he is just like a little old man.

 

He always apologises for fear of being impolite and boring; regretting being unable to do something nice like taking her out to dinner or at least for a quiet stroll, but Steve is becoming less and less keen to go anywhere these days. If he is accompanied then he may be convinced to go for an early morning run or somewhere low profile for lunch, but he hasn't gone to a restaurant or the park alone in weeks.

 

Since retiring from the heavy duties of being Captain America, Steve is slowly becoming something of a shut in. Being out in public makes him feel nervous and vulnerable. Very few people have any compliments to throw his way when they recognise him, and his anxiety doesn't make it easy to discern faces when they start to resemble old enemies.

 

Fortunately he can always be reassured by Nat's aversion to going out in public too. She likes her home comforts and never has any objection to their quiet evenings in, and since neither of them can cook to save their lives, it's the perfect excuse to eat takeaway. Steve has become very partial to them, and so at least once a week Natasha turns up to his apartment with, usually, Thai or pizza in hand.

 

Tonight she opted for a bit of diversity, and brought Chinese.

 

"Hey, big guy. You hungry?" she half smiles as Steve opens the door to her.

 

"Starving," he confesses, standing aside to usher her in. Nat notes the additional locks on the door as Steve dutifully bolts all three of them. Poor lamb.

 

"Well, that's why I got extra," she carries on, putting away her observations as she sees herself to the open-plan kitchen and begins unpacking box after box.

 

Steve tuts in a way that indicates his appreciation of how well she knows him, and gets comfortable in his favourite chair that is still warm from where he'd been sat reading moments before.

 

"So Peter recommended another movie for me, you seen it?" he asks, concentrating on the TV remote.

 

"Hm? What's it called?" Nat humours him, glancing over as she licks satay sauce off her thumb and smiles at the cute look on his face when the gadget responds to his random button pressing.

 

"The Empire Strikes Back," Steve reads aloud. "He leant me the DVD," he adds, throwing her the exact expression old people get when they're impressed by something's modernity.

 

In return she gets the same feeling as when Clint's kids call her auntie Nat and share stories with her. Being company to Steve is essentially babysitting, but even at his age he inspires a sense of adoration one gets toward something precious and in need of protection.

 

"Wow," Nat drawls, setting Steve's overfilled plate in front of him as she goes back for cutlery. "And have you already seen the first movie or are you jumping right in there?"

 

"It's not a movie on its own?" Steve questions, looking almost wounded that Peter would set him so awry on his path through pop-culture.

 

"Psh, that kid," Nat scoffs monotonously, "bet he watched them all out of order too."

 

She realises after making the joke that Steve will have no idea such a thing would be unavoidable given Peter's age; regardless, she intends to oversee his cinematic education properly.

 

"Let auntie Nat steer you right, kiddo," she teases.

 

"Hn, auntie Nat," Steve chuckles, sounding dangerously fond of that address.

 

They only manage one movie due to Steve's self-sentenced ten o'clock curfew, but he smiled and laughed at Nat's dry humour all night, and ate more than his fill, so she considers that an important part of her mission complete.

 

She kisses Steve good night when he announces that he's retiring to bed, and despite his insistence to leave them for him to do in the morning, Natasha now occupies herself washing the dishes.

 

It's unlikely she will sleep tonight. She rarely does when she is on Steve duty. Perhaps it's just the nature of her profession that makes her constantly alert, but when it's Steve, she wants to be wide awake in case he needs something.

 

It isn't a loss of respect by any means— none of the Avengers involved in looking out for Steve see him as less than they once did— but she does feel an inclination to be more delicate with him, even when he seems completely normal.

 

Maybe it's just oversight, but it feels like that's what he needs, anyway: people who can be tender with him, people who don't rely so heavily on him that he forces himself to be strong even when he needs a break.

 

It's not his fault he's lost his edge. It's not surprising that he _would_. It had to happen some time after everything Steve has been through. The crushing responsibility he piles on himself, along with so much already resting on his shoulders that got dragged up from the depths with him; it's too much for even a super soldier.

 

Nat feels bitter when she thinks about the things that have brought Steve to his current state.

 

The people who brand him a coward and an embarrassment to his country for stepping down in such a dire time; those who like to misconstrue him as a poster boy for everything wrong with America. The accusations of him being a cold marketing front and an easy picture to dehumanise and blame for their fear. It makes her furious.

 

And it's not only how the public treat him— adjusting to a new world, losing Peggy, and Bucky; his arduous tussles with S.H.I.E.L.D, and HYDRA, and Tony Stark— that's too much for even Captain America. He has taken more hits than any one man should be forced to withstand.

 

Sam isn't quite as big of a pushover with the public now that he fills the role of Captain America, and he absolutely does not tolerate a bad word said in Steve's direction.

 

It's certainly a tough job to do right though, but coming home to Steve reminds Sam who he's really protecting. He isn't exactly raring to do it forever, either.... but for now, and for Steve, it's fine.

 

Sam's tough, but it hurts to see his love so low and frightened. It fills him with guilt any time he's informed of how Steve had been without him that evening and it involved the need to give him his inhaler or get him under his weighted blanket, or that he was asking, 'where's Sam? I need Sam!'

 

He wishes he could just be with him all the time and fix him up with cuddles and homemade casserole, but before he can fix Steve, he needs to make the world a place he can feel safe in again...

 

Steve's retirement hasn't been without _any_ benefits though. Being out of the public eye has alleviated a lot his self-consciousness and given him time to find a foothold at least.

 

Physically he's fine. The trouble is deeper inside. His mind isn't something the serum can repair like it can his body, and even at peak fitness Steve is effected by the nausea, the shortness of breath, the palpitations, and at its worst the flashing memories and faces of passersby turning into hideous foes from the past. Some days he feels he's no better off for having the serum at all.

 

It seemed like a hundred years of horrors caught up with him in a matter of weeks, and in that time he was being hospitalised over anxiety attacks and PTSD, and back to relying on an inhaler.

 

That was a call to action for his friends, though. Since his last hospital visit team Cap have been taking turns to look after Steve. Even if it's such simple things as dropping by with lunch or just to chat.

 

Sam worries about his little soldier most on the mornings following on from Steve crying in his arms after nightmares. He hates having to leave him, but they have good friends.

 

Scott is never one to refuse a turn at keeping the retired Cap busy, getting him painting for an afternoon and reminding him there are people who still believe in him. Clint's child-friendly selection of DVDs keep Steve happy for hours, as does knitting. Peter, being only a city over, sometimes goes as far as to skip school if he senses Steve is struggling.

 

Despite how he doubts his worthiness, Steve never needs to question if he is loved or not.

 

Nat smiles to herself as she stacks the last dish on the draining board and dries her hands.

 

There really is something special in Steve. He inspires unity, even when he's not leading. He makes people want to do their best, and right now everyone wants to put that best into protecting him.

 

Even with the city clamour and occasional siren outside, it's been a relatively peaceful evening. Nat is almost lulled into a state of relaxation when she sits down to read, but just after one o'clock she is bolted out of her trance by a sound that cuts deeper than the bullet wound on her hip.

 

"Oh, Steve," she sighs, already drowning in a sense of maternal urgency to rush to his side and cradle him. "Steve, it's okay, it's just a dream, honey."

 

"Ma! Ma!" Steve sobs, gripping onto Nat the second she's by his bedside and gathering him into her arms.

 

"Sweetheart, I've got you. I'm here."

 

"No! Ma!" the super soldier weeps. He can't open his eyes; too rapt in the awful nightmare to realise where he is and with whom.

 

But Nat doesn't try to correct him as he clings to her and cries for his mother. Poor Steve has lost so many people, she can't bear to remind him at a time like this that his mom isn't really here for him.

 

"It's okay, sweetie, it's just a bad dream. I've got you," Nat repeats. Her voice remains calm and steady even in the face of Steve's distress. "I've got you, honey," she promises, stroking his hair with her free hand to soothe him.

 

"N-Natasha?" Steve's shaky voice enquires as his eyes finally open and he is freed from his terror. "Ah! I'm sorry! Sorry I—"

 

"Honey it's okay. It's okay. You were having a nightmare," Natasha informs, easing him into reality again as she helps him to sit up.

 

Steve frowns as if in pain, but he seems to realise suddenly what the discomfort is and his face turns to repulsion. 

 

"Sweetheart? You okay?" Nat gently investigates.

 

The colour has drained from his cheeks, leaving him sheet white save for the redness scorching his ears.

 

"Steve?" she tries, patient but a little more firm as she rubs his back.

 

Steve gives a tiny shake of his head as tears fill his eyes and quietly overflow in seconds.

 

"It's wet," he chokes out, balling his fists into his eyes like a child.

 

"It's w— oh, honey," Nat gathers, "It's okay. It's okay—"

 

"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! Please—" the lump in his throat makes him heave for air; strained sounds escaping around the blockage as he weeps in pain, "please help me," he finishes.

 

"Of course, sweetheart— Steve," Natasha tries to calm him, "it's okay, it's all okay. I'll take care of it, honey," she reassures.

 

Steve leans into her and just cries for a good few minutes, but Natasha doesn't object in the slightest. Her patience and devotion to Steve is limitless, and it truly hurts her to see him so troubled. Particularly at times when all he's trying to do is rest.

 

"Hey sweetheart," she purrs, kissing Steve's forehead as she strokes his hair back. "You're a good boy. You're a good boy, honey."

 

Steve gives a little hiccup as he finds his breath and manages to calm down. He lets Nat help him out of bed then and out of his soaked underwear before leading him to the bathroom.

 

"There you go, sweetheart," the patient agent assures once she's drawn him a bath. "This'll do you a world of good," she promises as she helps him in. "Take your time, you call if you need anything, okay?"

 

Steve grabs her hand before she leaves, staring ahead for a moment before pressing a grateful kiss to her palm.

 

"Thank you," he whispers, his voice frail and thin.

 

Nat ruffles his hair once he releases her.

 

"You just relax, big guy."

 

Steve manages to get himself out of the bath after he nearly nods off, but he's feeling a bit more human once he's clean and relaxed. He returns to find no evidence of his accident either; Nat has put fresh sheets down and it looks so inviting, he is already being drawn back to bed.

 

"Natasha?" he calls, not wanting to get in and fall asleep before he can thank her wholeheartedly.

 

"Right here," she supplies as she comes through with a glass of milk.

 

She hands it to him and then gathers his wet towel off the bathroom floor to busy herself while he settles down.

 

"You're too good to me, Nat..." Steve remarks as he sets down the glass after a few slow sips. "Would— would ya'... um..."

 

"Hm?" Natasha encourages, appearing in the doorway with a knowing quirk to her lips.

 

"I don't wanna' make this worse for myself since I— well, I guess I can't embarrass myself any further anyway," the bashful soldier ruminates. "Um... would ya'... get in?" he trifles with a hopeful but timid glance.

 

"You wanna' be little spoon?" Natasha smiles gently.

 

Steve rubs the back of his neck and nods. He feels like he's asking so much of his friend, but truthfully he doesn't want to sleep alone again.

 

"Move over, cutie pie," Nat says as she lifts the covers to let Steve get under first.

 

The feeling of her pressing up against him makes him feel immediately safe; her hand on his tummy and her knees behind his, outlining his body.

 

"Thanks, Nat," Steve sighs shakily, quiet tears running off onto his pillow as he gives her hand a squeeze.

 

"Don't mention it, big guy. I've got you," she whispers.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i,,, love steve,, but u probably can't tell bc i do horrible angsty things like this to him ( ; w ; )


End file.
